The sardonic smile hardened on the lips of Nash as he answered: “Before you’ve been here much longer, Pete, you’ll find out that about everything I do is square. Sorry to leave you, boys, before you’re broke, but orders is orders.”
“But one more hand first,” pleaded Pete.
“You poor fool,” snarled Nash, “d’you think I’ll take a chance on keepin’ _him_ waiting?”
The last of his winnings passed with a melodious jingling into his pockets and he went hurriedly out of the bunk-house and up to the main building. There he found Drew in the room which the rancher used as an office, and stood at the door hat in hand.
“Come in; sit down,” said “_him_.” “Been taking the money from the boys again, Steve? I thought I talked with you about that a month ago?”
“It’s this way, Mr. Drew,” explained Nash, “with me stayin’ away from the cards is like a horse stayin’ off its feed. Besides, I done the square thing by the lot of those short-horns.”
“How’s that?”
“I showed ’em my hand.”
“Told them you were a professional gambler?”
“Sure. I explained they didn’t have no chance against me.”
“And of course that made them throw every cent they had against you?”
“Maybe.”
“It can’t go on, Nash.”
“Look here, Mr. Drew. I told ’em that I wasn’t a gambler but just a gold-digger.”
The big man could not restrain his smile, though it came like a shadow of mirth rather than the sunlight.
“After all, they might as well lose it to you as to someone else.”
“Sure,” grinned Nash, “it keeps it in the family, eh?”
“But one of these days, Steve, crooked cards will be the end of you.”
“I’m still pretty fast on the draw,” said Steve sullenly.
“All right. That’s your business. Now I want you to listen to some of mine.”
“Real work?”
“Your own line.”
“That,” said Nash, with a smile of infinite meaning, “sounds like the dinner bell to me. Let her go, sir!”
CHAPTER XI
THE QUEST BEGINS
“You know the old place on the other side of the range?”
“Like a book. I got pet names for all the trees.”
“There’s a man there I want.”
“Logan?”
“No. His name is Bard.”
“H-m! Any relation of the old bird that was partners with you back about the year one?”
“I want Anthony Bard brought here,” said. Drew, entirely overlooking the question.
“Easy. I can make the trip in a buckboard and I’ll dump him in the back of it.”
“No. He’s got to _ride_ here, understand?”
“A dead man,” said Nash calmly, “ain’t much good on a hoss.”
“Listen to me,” said Drew, his voice lowering to a sort of musical thunder, “if you harm a hair of this lad’s head I’ll-I’ll break you in two with my own hands.”
And he made a significant gesture as if he were snapping a twig between his fingers. Nash moistened his lips, then his square, powerful jaw jutted out.
“Which the general idea is me doing baby talk and sort of hypnotizing this Bard feller into coming along?”
“More than that. He’s got to be brought here alive, untouched, and placed in that chair tied so that he can’t move hand or foot for ten minutes while I talk.”
“Nice, quiet day you got planned for me, Mr. Drew.”
The grey man considered thoughtfully.
“Now and then you’ve told me of a girl at Eldara—I think her name is Sally Fortune?”
“Right. She begins where the rest of the calico leaves off.”
“H-m! that sounds familiar, somehow. Well, Steve, you’ve said that if you had a good start you think the girl would marry you.”
“I think she might.”
“She pretty fond of you?”
“She knows that if I can’t have her I’m fast enough to keep everyone else away.”
“I see. A process of elimination with you as the eliminator. Rather an odd courtship, Steve?”
The cowpuncher grew deadly serious.
“You see, I love her. There ain’t no way of bucking out of that. So do nine out of ten of all the boys that’ve seen her. Which one will she pick? That’s the question we all keep askin’, because of all the contrary, freckle-faced devils with the heart of a man an’ the smile of a woman, Sally has ’em all beat from the drop of the barrier. One feller has money; another has looks; another has a funny line of talk. But I’ve got the fastest gun. So Sally sees she’s due for a complete outfit of black mournin’ if she marries another man while I’m alive; an’ that keeps her thinkin’. But if I had the price of a start in the world—why, maybe she’d take a long look at me.”
“Would she call one thousand dollars in cash a start in the world—and your job as foreman of my place, with twice the salary you have now?”
Steve Nash wiped his forehead.
He said huskily: “A joke along this line don’t bring no laugh from me, governor.”
“I mean it, Steve. Get Anthony Bard tied hand and foot into this house so that I can talk to him safely for ten minutes, and you’ll have everything I promise. Perhaps more. But that depends.”
The blunt-fingered hand of Nash stole across the table.
“If it’s a go, shake, Mr. Drew.”
A mighty hand fell in his, and under the pressure he set his teeth. Afterward he covertly moved his fingers and sighed with relief to see that no permanent harm had been done.
“Me speakin’ personal, Mr. Drew, I’d of give a lot to seen you when you was ridin’ the range. This Bard—he’ll be here before sunset to-morrow.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions, Steve. I’ve an idea that before you count your thousand you’ll think that you’ve been underpaid. That’s straight.”
“This Bard is something of a man?”
“I can say that without stopping to think.”
“Texas?”
“No. He’s a tenderfoot, but he can ride a horse as if he was sewed to the skin, and I’ve an idea that he can do other things up to the same standard. If you can find two or three men who have silent tongues and strong hands, you’d better take them along. I’ll pay their wages, and big ones. You can name your price.”
But Nash was frowning.
“Now and then I talk to the cards a bit, Mr. Drew, and you’ll hear fellers say some pretty rough things about me, but I’ve never asked for no odds against any man. I’m not going to start now.”
“You’re a hard man, Steve, but so am I; and hard men are the kind I take to. I know that you’re the best foreman who ever rode this range and I know that when